Pirates, Puritans, propaganda, and princes—pieces of the puzzle in the whirlwind romance between a beautiful jelly maker and a mysterious castaway.
Up until my thirties, I traveled a great deal, living in many countries with amenities that many would consider below standard. So it wasn’t until I married and settled down in an old farmhouse with an acre of land that I could indulge my fantasy of growing my own food. We planted apple, plum, peach, fig, hazelnut, and cherry trees; gooseberries, strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries; all kinds of vegetables, including an ill-fated attempt to grow artichokes; and finally, lots and lots of herbs. I built a formal herb garden and planted thyme, lovage, rosemary, chives, tarragon, sage, and lemon balm. The one thing I couldn’t get to grow was mint. Yes, the gardeners among you will scoff, but it took me years to get a plot to flourish. When it did, I had to do something or it would take over the entire acre.
So I called upon my sister-in-law, to whom Whirlwind Romance is dedicated. She directed me to an old recipe for mint jelly. Once the mint invasion was under control and I’d mastered the technique, I spent whole summers working up recipes for herb jellies. It was great fun. Despite the fact that I’m not really fond of jelly, they made excellent Christmas gifts.
When I started writing Whirlwind Romance, I thought about what my heroine, Lacey Delahaye, would do for a living. She lives alone in Florida, her one grown son. What could she do? I thought of the innumerable ecosystems in Florida, from pine uplands, to coastal plains, to palm hammocks—all of which are host to many wild fruits, most of which can be made into jelly. Ah hah! She’d be a jelly maker.
For fun, I added the recipes to each chapter. I hope you enjoy them as much as you do Lacey and Armand’s love story.
Whirlwind Romance
In the aftermath of a hurricane, Lacey Delahaye finds herself marooned on an island off the Florida coast with a mysterious man. Before he can confess his identity, they are kidnapped and taken to a tiny island in the western Caribbean. In a story laced with adventure and romance, Lacey encounters pirates, power-mad ideologues, and palace intrigue, not to mention the advances of three men, only one of whom she loves.
One of Lacey’s Recipes: Passionfruit Jelly
Passionfruit is a woody vine with strange, yet beautiful flowers. It grows in humid tropical lowlands. Ripening in the fall, the round fruit about the size of a plum is either golden or dark purple.
Passionfruit Jelly
5 lbs passionfruit for 2 cups juice
2 oz. water
Halve the fruits and scoop out filling. In a blender, quick pulse for a couple of seconds. Strain the juice. Repeat procedure 2-3 times, thinning with water if necessary, until juice is clear.
2 cups juice
1 ¾ cups water
7 ½ cups sugar
6 oz. (2 packets) liquid pectin
Combine juice, water and sugar in a large pot. Bring to a full, rolling boil over high heat, stirring constantly. Add liquid pectin. Remove from the heat, skim off any foam and pour into hot, sterilized jars leaving 1/4 inch space between the jelly and rim of the jar. Upend jars and leave 5 minutes, then turn right side up and tighten lids.
Makes 4 pints.
Excerpt from Whirlwind Romance: Slipping Briskly
The full moon shone through the window, illuminating Lacey’s nodding head. Armand touched her cheek. “I think it’s your bedtime.”
Stung, she shot back, “I’m taking care of you, remember?”
He held up a hand. “Sorry! I’d forgotten.” After a moment, he asked, his tone diffident, “Can you help me up?”
Lacey put an arm around his back and together they limped to Crispin’s room. She took his pants and shirt off and folded them neatly. As she turned to leave, he touched her arm. “Stay a minute?”
How could she admit she had to get out of there quickly or she wouldn’t be able to go at all? His handsome face—the strong chin covered with stubble, the pearly teeth contrasting with his tan skin, not to mention the long, graceful fingers he held out to her—all conspired to lure her closer. Her heart led the way, propelling her to his side. She sat down. “What is it?”
“Lacey…um.”
Her body tensed as desire fought to get out, and she fought just as hard to keep it in. I have to go. I have to…go. “What?”
His words came out in a rush. “Lacey, the other day—the first night—when you rescued me. When we…we…”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Christ.
“I…uh…want you to know I don’t do that on a regular basis.”
His air of shy ambivalence gave her courage. “I see. You don’t have sex on a regular basis?”
“No, no, it’s not that.” He stopped, flustered. “Er, I mean… I don’t sleep with women indiscriminately.”
Should she let him off the hook? Nah. “But you do sleep with a lot of women?”
“No! Lacey, you’re being difficult on purpose. I meant, that I didn’t mean to…you know. It just happened. Forgive me?”
“I—”
Armand interrupted her. “Not that it wasn’t enjoyable.” He seemed distracted, running a finger down her arm. “Wonderful. Fantastic. Too short.” He peered at her. “Lacey, you must know how beautiful you are. You have the most perfect cheekbones I’ve ever seen.”
“Cheekbones?” What the hell is he talking about?
“I’m an amateur photographer. Those cheekbones could belong to a supermodel. Perfectly sculpted. And your nose…” He tapped the tip. “A little pixie nose. It even turns up slightly. Your long, fine hair is the russet-gold of burnished copper pots I once saw piled high in a shop on Martinique. Your eyes…” He closed his. “Your eyes are the blue-green of a freshly mowed cricket field, of the emeralds that grow deep in the mountains, of the lagoon near my home on a blustery day.” He touched her hand. “Then there’s your body—as I remember it—a soft, comfortable, pillowy—”
“Hey!” Lacey shook her head to break the spell. “I think you’ve said enough. Get some sleep.”
She tried to rise, but he slipped his arms around her and drew her close. She wanted to struggle. She tried to struggle. It was no use. The long kiss filled her with a warmth that matched a fire on a cold night, a cup of cocoa, or a hot bath. When he lay back, the warmth turned to blazing passion. The power of it frightened her. I’ve got to go. She ran out of the room before he could stop her.
Librarian, anthropologist, Congressional aide, speechwriter—M. S. Spencer has traveled the globe. She has published fourteen romantic suspense or murder mystery novels, with two more on the way. She has two fabulous grown children and an incredible granddaughter. She divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.
I’m looking forward to this summer, to being outdoors enjoying the sunshine. Winter is long here, and summer is short. I plan to enjoy every minute of it.
I’ve shared this recipe before, but it’s worth sharing again. It’s a cool and refreshing adult beverage you can enjoy in your backyard on a hot summer afternoon. You can make it ahead and enjoy whenever you like.
Summer Slush
Ingredients:
1 – 12 oz can of frozen orange juice
1 – 12 oz can of frozen lemonade
¾ cup of sugar
5 cups of water
2 cups of vodka
In large freezer proof container, mix in order given and freeze.
Serve ½ glass of slush with 7 up or ginger ale.
Fun Things to Do
Now that you have your drink, here are some fun things you can do that don’t cost much.
Have a picnic. Eating outside is always preferable to eating indoors (as long as the mosquitos aren’t around). Treat yourself. Enjoy fresh fruit, cheese, crackers, fried chicken, pasta salad or whatever you desire. If it’s you and your honey, throw in a bottle of wine and make it a romantic evening. If it’s raining, spread a blanket and some pillows on the living room floor and make your fun indoors.
Try a new recipe one night a week. Get your family involved and all of you take turns choosing. They don’t have to be complex recipes—unless you’re so inclined. Keep it simple and fun. Fire up the grill if you have one.
Dessert night! I’m sure you’re seeing a theme here. Spend a day baking some tasty treats and enjoy. Or recreate a traditional English tea, complete with scones and cream.
Have a movie marathon day. Pick a movie series, load up on snacks, and watch them back to back. Lord of the Rings, Die Hard, Bourne Identity, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Mummy. There are plenty to choose from. Or have a theme movie day—Disney, horror, comedy. Or binge a series on Netflix.
Take a walk or a drive somewhere different. Doesn’t have to be far. We all tend to be creatures of habit and take the same routes or go to the same places.
Read a book. Take yourself out to the backyard, the balcony, the beach, or walk to a park and enjoy a few hours.
And if you’re looking for something to read, you might want to check out the Salvation Pack series. These smoking hot werewolves will certainly spice up your days…and your nights.
Salvation Pack
Each book in the Salvation Pack series is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order. Series Order:
Book #1 Wolf at the Door
Book #2 Wolf in her Bed
Book #3 Wolf on the Run
Book #4 Wolf from the Past
Book #5 Wolf on the Hunt
Book #6 Wolf on a Mission
Book #7 Wolf in his Heart
Book #8 Wolf in her Soul
Book #9 Wolf of her Own
N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, assassins, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.
Hello, everyone, and thank you for having me as a guest on this blog. I considered the many topics I could write about, but spring is upon us, and while many are not able to gather with family and friends just yet, we may still be making and eating desserts. One of my favorite go-to desserts is super easy. It has to be because I am not a great cook, and it sometimes takes me more than one try to get a recipe right. This is why I make this chocolate pie…
Cara’s Chocolate Pie
Get:
One chocolate cookie crust (pre-made)
Box of chocolate instant pudding
Container of whipped topping
Chocolate sprinkles.
Make the pudding, pour onto the readymade crust, wait until it is set, then add the whipped topping, put on the sprinkles and BAM! You have a very quick and easy dessert.
Anyone else terrible in the kitchen? What is your go-to make and take item?
Johnson Family Ranch
One of the reasons I love writing characters that know how to cook is because I wish I enjoyed cooking.
My cowboys certainly enjoy cooking. Since they are from a pre-facetime, social media era, I have dropped the price on this well-loved contemporary, erotic series. They are available where e-books are sold.
I love this time of year—the music, the colored lights, the tree, the holiday movies, and the excitement. Like most families, we have various traditions that have changed or evolved over the years. But one tradition that never changes is my mother’s fruit cake.
Yes, I said it. Fruit cake. We’re big on this holiday staple in my family, and all of us would feel slighted if our mother didn’t make us one of her amazing cakes. Heck, when I was a kid, I used to ask for one for my birthday every year. Mom would make a fruit cake for the family celebration and a chocolate one for the party with my friends. I don’t know what makes hers so special. Maybe it’s the love. All I know is Christmas wouldn’t be the same without it.
My mother was always a big baker. Growing up in our house, we always had light and dark fruitcake, pineapple cake, cherry cake, chocolate chips, brownies, snowballs, Nanaimo bars, shortbreads, and so much more. We had two long shelves in the kitchen that held nothing but cookie and cake tins. It was a kid’s paradise.
Another tradition is chocolate fudge, but not just any fudge. I use the same recipe my mother used when I was a kid. I know I’ve shared it over the years, but it’s worth repeating. It’s fast and delicious.
Five Minute Fudge
(From the Carnation Milk Cookbook)
2/3 cup of Carnation milk
1 2/3 cups of sugar
~Bring sugar and milk to a boil and boil on low heat for 5 minutes. Stir constantly. Remove from heat.
Add:
1 ½ cups chocolate chips (I use semi-sweet dark chips)
1 ½ cups of plain mini marshmallows (I use Kraft minis)
1 tsp of vanilla flavouring
Stir until smooth and pour into greased 8” X 8” pan.
Cool and cut into squares.
Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to you all! N.J.
Burning Ash
Forgotten Brotherhood, Book 3
No one is more surprised than Asher, one of the oldest vampires on Earth, that he’s attracted to vamp hunter Jo Radcliffe. She’s smart, a talented slayer, and she’s gorgeous. Something about her pulls at him, like no one ever has before. For a man, whose name strikes fear in everyone––this is something new and intriguing. And quite possibly deadly, if she discovers his secret.
Jo has two things in common with the handsome Asher––they are both slayers and someone is messing with them in a very-much-trying-to-kill-them way. She’s not so happy about joining forces with a dude she doesn’t know. But he’s sexy as hell and really good at his job as one of the Forgotten Brotherhood, whose business it is to execute misbehaving paranormals.
She knows she’s bait in a larger plot to harm Asher and the Brotherhood. And there is nothing he won’t do, no line he won’t cross, to keep her safe––which may be the weakness that destroys them both.
N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.
I brake for great songs. Not literally, but when I’m driving, I tend to station-surf, hunting for a song that lifts me up and reflects my mood. Between FM, satellite radio, the cd player, and yes, even a cassette player, there are plenty of options in my car. I’m constantly searching for songs that make me feel—feel happy, sad, romantic, or amused. One tune that I block out all else to listen to is “Samba Pa Ti” by Santana. Something about those notes evokes yearning and sensuousness, and lifts my soul to a satisfying high.
So when I answered the submission call for short stories involving a supernatural connection to jazz for the anthology All That Weird Jazz, I knew the story I wrote would involve a song that pulled the main character in, a song like “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak, or “Still Got The Blues For You” by Gary Moore. A song that takes the listener to another world. A Siren Song.
In my story “Siren Song“, Hawk Hathaway’s soul is touched by a song, too, one that leads him to a life-changing dilemma. He listens to local jazz at The Gimlet Lounge, a bar above an old speakeasy, sitting in the dark, sipping on drinks served to him by attractive bartender Greta, who with her pierced eyebrow, plaid skirt, and biker boots is both from a different world and so out of his league.
For myself, listening to music while enjoying a refreshing drink (alcoholic or not, I’m not partial), soothes my soul and provides a calming effect that I appreciate more than usual during this troubled year. Here is a cocktail with a history as old as The Gimlet Lounge, and I’ve included a non-alcoholic version as well. It’s one of my favorites.
The French 75
The French 75 is a champagne cocktail that has been around since the early 1900s and got its name from the French artillery gun used during World War I. I enjoyed several of these when The National World War I Museum in Kansas City served them at their exciting evening events that commemorated the 100th anniversary of the end of The Great War. They are typically made with either cognac (French brandy) or gin. For cool fall and winter nights, I prefer them made with brandy, but on hot summer nights, a French 75 made with gin is particularly refreshing.
Serve in a coupe or flute. Makes one serving.
French 75
½ oz. cognac
½ oz. lemon juice
½ oz. simple syrup
3 oz. Champagne
Twist of lemon peel for garnish
Fill a shaker with ice and add cognac, lemon juice, and simple syrup. Shake, then strain into glass and top with Champagne. Add lemon peel.
French 75 Mocktail
3 oz. Tonic water
2 oz. Sprite
Twist of lemon peel for garnish
For the mocktail, pass on shaking over ice because both of the ingredients are carbonated. Instead, pour ingredients directly into a flute or coupe, and stir with a swizzle stick. Garnish with a twist of lemon peel.
The tonic water adds dryness to the drink, and there is no need to add lemon juice since Sprite already has lemon flavoring. I use Fever Tree Premium Indian Tonic Water.
Enjoy your drink, turn on the stereo or stream your music of choice, and if you have no dilemmas of your own to ponder, why not check out Hawk Hathaway’s in “Siren Song“?
Cheers!
All That Weird Jazz
Jazz. A music of improvisation, of passion, of its very own kind of magic. Considered by many to be the only truly original American form of music, it has since its birth in a smoky room somewhere also been tied to the strange, wrapped up in the supernatural, associated with the occult, at least in hints and shadows. Pro Se Productions now brings together several of the most innovative writers in genre fiction today in ALL THAT WEIRD JAZZ, telling the tales of the unusual between the notes, the magic behind the music.From straight up pulp action to ghostly noir to a dragon who digs Jazz more than anyone else, ALL THAT WEIRD JAZZ takes love for this unique musical styling to an all new level, complete with adventure, thrills, and even a chill or two.
A. Monnin is an AF veteran and avocational archaeologist. She lives to travel, and can’t wait until her next foreign trip. Egypt, the French island of Guadaloupe, and the Balearic Islands are all on her agenda.
You can find her here:
Facebook: MA Monnin
Twitter: mamonnin1
Instagram: M.A.Monnin www.mamonnin.com
It’s been a stressful year and many of us will be staying closer to home this summer. If you expect to be spending more time in the backyard this season, here’s a cool and refreshing adult beverage you can make ahead of time and enjoy whenever you like.
Summer Slush
Ingredients:
1 – 12 oz can of frozen orange juice
1 – 12 oz can of frozen lemonade
¾ cup of sugar
5 cups of water
2 cups of vodka
In large freezer proof container, mix in order given and freeze.
Serve ½ glass of slush with 7 up or ginger ale.
Things you can do at home!
Now that you have your drink, here’s some things you can do at home this summer.
1. Throw an indoor picnic. On a rainy day, spread a blanket on the living room floor, thrown down some pillows and enjoy picnic foods—fruit, cheese, crackers, fried chicken, pasta salad, or whatever you desire. If it’s an adult picnic, you can throw in a bottle of wine, light a candle and make it romantic.
2. Have one night a week where you try a new recipe. Get your family involved and all of you take turns choosing. They don’t have to be complex recipes—unless you’re so inclined. Keep it simple and fun. Fire up the grill if you have one.
3. Dessert night! I’m sure you’re seeing a theme here. Spend a day baking some tasty treats and enjoy. Or recreate a traditional English tea, complete with scones and cream.
4. Have a movie marathon day. Pick a movie series, load up on snacks, and watch them back to back. Lord of the Rings, Die Hard, Bourne Identity, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Mummy. There are plenty to choose from. Or have a theme movie day—Disney, horror, comedy.
5. Take a walk or a drive somewhere different. Doesn’t have to be far. We all tend to be creatures of habit and take the same routes or go to the same places.
6. Read a book. Take yourself out to the backyard, the balcony, or walk to a park (maintaining social distancing) and enjoy a few hours.
And if you’re looking for something to read, you might want to check out ARCTIC BITE, the second book in my Forgotten Brotherhood series, out now.
Arctic Bite
Forgotten Brotherhood, Book Two
Being immortal doesn’t mean you can’t die. It just means you’re damn hard to kill.
When Alexei Medvedev joined the Forgotten Brotherhood—paranormals hired to assassinate other paranormals—he knew it wouldn’t be a cake walk. But his next target is one of Death’s own Reapers gone rogue. For the first time since he started this gig, “damn hard to kill” feels more like “damn near impossible.”
Tracking Cassie Dobbs brings him to a remote bar in small-town Alaska, where this hot-as-hell Reaper is casually serving drinks, as if she doesn’t have a bounty on her head from Death himself. Alexei is dangerously intrigued. Everyone in the Brotherhood knows the first rule: don’t fall for your target.
But Alexei soon has bigger problems to face than an unexpected attraction. They only send assassins after those who deserve to die…or so he’s been made to believe. Now that he’s met Cassie, though, he’s not so sure.
What if everything he’s been told is a lie, and the person he’s been sent to kill is the only one who knows the truth?
N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.
Thank you, Delilah, for hosting me and my new romance Karma’s Slow Burn.
I’m about half way through my pre-release journey and boy, I can’t tell you how long this seems. But, I did and still do need this time to get a lot of balls balancing in the air in beautiful harmony. And I still hope (fingers crossed) one of those balls won’t come crashing down on me.
I’ve received three good reviews from as many ARC readers. It is not nearly enough to get my book on reputed-maybe too hyped?-advertisers sites. All of them require at least five four-star reviews. Which is understandable due to the over-whelming numbers of books being released. Which is a downer for an indie author like me. I have to keep working to find those choice spots so my book does not fade into oblivion even before it is released!
Then there are the shenanigans with Amazon about getting those two reviews on my book’s page. The only place to put a review not posted by an Amazon buyer (they can’t because my book in not yet available) is to get in touch with Amazon. Days 1,2. Then they send me a link I can use to send them the reviews, which they will enter on my book page for me. The email they sent is invalid and my email bounces right back. I again send them yet another email, through KDP, Author Central or Customer Service? Aargh! Too many choices. Day 3. They send me the right one but meanwhile I can’t schedule any actual promotion because my book details are not current. Double aargh!
Now that the issue has been resolved, I heave a tiny sigh of relief. Now I have to see how I can get those precious reviews on Smashwords. I will need a barrel of luck as it does not look good.
Sportswriter Karma Huntington is going to hit Rafael Henley, star pitcher for the Sliders, hard to avenge her husband’s death. Rafael cannot ignore the chemistry between them and decides a one-night stand is in order. Karma agrees. Just to get that itch off. But once they get into each other’s pants, things get complicated. Revenge and guilt take a back seat with sizzling chemistry in control. Rafael likes willowy blondes and women who don’t look to him as their protector. Yet here is, lusting after the complete opposite: petite, raven-haired, Karma with a rose tat running up her neck. Can Rafael overcome the dark secret he hides and give in to what his heart wants? Will Karma finally admit she needs Rafael?
Excerpt from Karma’s Slow Burn:
As Karma drove home, the large orange globe of a full moon hung before her eyes, bathing the countryside in its silver glow. The deserted road stretched in front of her, turned and disappeared between the trees. It was a magical and beautiful night. The scent of lilacs wafted from the back seat of her electric car. Trudie had cut her some lilac sprigs. He had three different colors growing in the yard.
Karma listened to Linus Radisson’s music. She waited for the part where Radisson’s voice became husky and slithered all over her. She waited for the part where it cracked at just the right spot. He had a very sexy voice and she sighed, her shoulders falling and her arms dropping from the wheel, carried away by the rhythm in the ballad. There was a jolt and her butt lifted up from the seat. As it sunk back, there was a loud thud. She felt the car pulling to the right.
Dammit! A bloody pothole! A flat. Immediately, there was a ping. Her overly environmentally friendly car had just run out of juice.
Double fudge!
She eased her smart vehicle slowly to the grassy side where it stopped of its own volition. She got out and inspected the damage. In the light of the moon, she could see the right front wheel sagging. Karma opened her trunk, got out the jack and began the intricate process of changing the flat.
*****
Rafael Henley started his Harley Street Glide and eased out onto the open road from his home in the country. Lush woods surrounded the ten plus acres. Hidden deep in the greenery, a stream trickled down ancient rocks. It was a good place to raise Ali.
He’d left an exhausted Ali asleep, with Rosita close by, after an afternoon of splashing in the pool, leaving him a bit of time to indulge in his passion. It was something only Linus knew about. Helmet donned and he could be anybody.
It was a beautiful evening, the sun leaving pink streaks in the darkening sky. The sliver of the moon turned round and yellow. Soon, he would be alone with the wind in his hair. It was another secret he kept: out on the road with nothing in sight, he took off his helmet and was one with the countryside.
It happened half an hour into his ride. He saw her illuminated in the pale glow of the twilight just as he was coming out of a bend. It couldn’t be anyone else but Karma. Not with those long, black waves rippling down her back. Not with his senses all on alert. There was a tiny something-could be called a car-parked by the side. She was at work at one of the tires. She paused, made a movement with her hands and there was no more hair rippling down her back. Her almost naked back. Her dress glistened in the glow of the moon. It was pale, strapless and the back dipped in a sumptuous V. He could make out the way it hugged her curves.
Fuck!
It was enough to make him hard. What was it about this woman? She was not good for his sanity. She brought up bad memories. But his cock didn’t know any better. It wanted what it wanted. And it wanted her.
As he killed his engine and walked toward her, he untucked his T-shirt. It fell below his fly and he was grateful to be able to hide the evidence of his arousal. She was kneeling on a rolled up blanket, a pair of pale shoes by her side. In the glow of the portable light by her side, he saw her arms move. Gravel crunched beneath his shoes.
*****
Karma was almost done with the last bolt when she heard the crunch of gravel behind her. A sleek road hog pulled up beside her. She put the wrench down and sank down on the grass. Of all the people to run into, it had to be him.
“Need help? A ride?” The familiar voice rubbed into her skin and seeped in like the lavender lotion she loved.
Just his voice gave her goose bumps. Karma turned to look at him. Moonlight glinted off the chrome on his motorcycle.
“Nope, Henley, I’m all done. Thanks for stopping, anyway.”
“Mind if I keep you company?”
Karma hesitated for a brief moment before she said, “No.”
She got her phone out to call her father. And a tow truck. He got off the magnificent machine and stood by her with his hands in his pockets.
“Lovely night,” he sniffed the air. “Fresh air.”
“Yep.”
“You don’t live around here.” A statement not a question.
“Nope don’t. Visiting my father. Thought you lived in the city. In a penthouse.”
“Yep. But I also have place in the country. Not far from here.”
“Ah.”
He came down on his haunches beside her. He was wearing a pale colored T-shirt: either blue or white and jeans. Dark hair, in sexy disarray from the bike ride, fell over his eyes. There was a faint aroma of something smoky. It was seductive. She took a deep whiff of it.
“What are you doing with a flat at a time like this?” She caught a flash of his smile in the night.
“Well,” Karma began slowly. “I had no choice. It chose me.”
“That can happen,” he laughed softly.
She stuck the phone back in her pocket and gave the bolt a final twist. Then she stretched her arms over her head, leaned them back on the soft grass and looked at the sky.
“I can’t believe it. Just a couple of months ago all this was under snow.” She looked around her.
“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it? That the cycle goes on and on seemingly forever?”
When she was done, he got to his feet and gave her his hand. He pulled her up. She made sure not to get too close to him. She put the wrench away and he handed over the rest of her stuff.
“Who’re you calling?” he butted in when she began her second call.
“My father. Need a ride home. My zero emission wonder is out of juice.”
“I can give you a ride. No need to disturb your father.”
Karma debated. On the one hand she’d promised herself she’d focus on her plan. On the other, the Harley was hot and she wanted to feel it beneath her. It was no contest at all. Prudence lost by a mile. But they still had to wait for the tow truck.
She pressed her phone and soon Linus Radisson’s voice flowed through the moonlit countryside.
*****
“Are you still in touch with Linus?” With those words she opened the can of worms.
Any desire he had for her screeched like a banshee and made for the hills. “Yes, we’ve stayed friends.”
“That’s nice. Like Kim and I.”
“Unhuh.”
He was damned sure it was not the same. What he had with Linus was way beyond simple friendship. It was karma. They were brothers in every way except blood, drawn to each other from the moment they met. They were two kindred souls who’d found each other in an ocean of souls. They were two sides of the same coin, each unique and distinct.
“He has the most amazing voice. And the guitar….it rips me apart.”
His sentiments exactly, though he didn’t say it out loud. His grunt should have been agreement enough. Linus’s music was the balm to his wounds. It took him places. He never needed anything else to keep him soaring, always lifting him up when he was down. And when he felt like wallowing, Linus was there too with his dark lyrics and brooding harmonics.
“Isn’t he up for a Grammy?”
“Or more, I wouldn’t be surprised. His latest album packs quite a punch, both lyrical and musical.”
“How’s your daughter?”
He knew what she was doing. She was controlling the conversation. The thing was, he couldn’t have cared less. He was content to sit by her side in the moonlight, let her fragrance soak into him, knowing something was about to change.
She plopped down on the grass again and he followed suit, his hands braced behind him. She hitched the dress up to her thighs and sat cross-legged, her hair tumbling over her shoulders. She didn’t seem to notice when a breeze picked up strands and blew them across his body, the silky fingers whispering around his biceps. He snagged a wayward strand. It curled around his finger as if it had a life of its own. He resisted the impulse to rake his fingers through her hair. He resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and wrap them around her to make her disappear in them like he’d done outside Josh’s.
And he was back where he’d started. As desire for her surged in him, he beat it down with an iron fist even as his dick thickened and hardened to wood. He shook his head to empty them of lustful thoughts and focused on what she was saying.
Recipe from Karma’s Slow Burn.
Karma’s Axle Grease Smoothie
-1 ripe banana
-1 ball frozen spinach
-handful blueberries
-10 raw cashews
-2 dates
-1/2” piece of ginger root, peeled
-1 tsp each of hemp flour, nutritional yeast and flax seed powder
-up to 2 cups liquid (water, almond or soy milk) for desired consistency
Buzz in a high speed blender. Pour into tall glasses and enjoy.
Fireflies in the Night
Literary Fiction, winner of the 2017 Next Generation Indie Book Award; Best Books of 2016 by Kirkus Reviews; Starred Kirkus Review; Finalist Foreword Reviews Indie Fiction Award. A historical, coming-of-age novel.
Nalini Warriar dreamed of being a writer then forgot the dream for a bit as she went on to garner a Ph.D in Molecular Biology. While in her lab, the dream came back and hit her on the head and she’s never looked back writing through her years as a scientist. After more than a decade in cancer research, Nalini returned to the creative part of her soul and now devotes her time to dreaming up the perfect alpha male and feisty woman to appear in her books. Her novel, Fireflies in the Night, was a Foreword Reviews Fab Award finalist and won the Next Generation Indie Book Award in 2017. Kirkus Reviews awarded Fireflies in the Night a starred review and named it Best Books of 2016. Karma’s Slow Burn, a contemporary romance will be released in February 2020. She’s working on her next romance, a Crenshaw Brothers book, to be released in 2020. She lives in Ontario, Canada.
